Every year I post a picture of the bridal wreath spirea and this year is no exception. I never get tired of its ridiculously small, perfect bouquets that come together to form a blossom. And I really do think that this version of the iPhone's capture of the bloom is the best I've ever gotten.
I hardly did a thing today except for the one thing I did do which was to survive. I woke up this morning with such an acute case of anxiety that I could barely function. I have not experienced anything this intense in a long time.
Hello, panic, my old friend!
I am not sure exactly what triggered it but the dreams I was having when I woke up had a lot to do with it, I'm sure. The main one was just another version of the I have children to take care of and my husband has left me dream. The most horrible thing about the dreams is that he does not show the slightest bit of remorse and shows no interest in having anything at all to do with me.
I am quite sure that this sparks my old terror of abandonment. First I was abandoned by my father and later on in my life, a boyfriend whom I had thought would love me forever...did not. I was young and stupid and a mess and was looking for love so desperately. I thought I had found it in him at the age of seventeen. I had a tiny little Spanish style cabana picked out that I wanted us to live in. Friends of ours had found themselves pregnant and got married and lived in a little apartment and I was deeply jealous of them.
Of course that didn't last and ironically, one of the women my boyfriend began seeing (naked) was the wife in that situation.
We all know this story.
And then my first husband did not comport himself well at all times, shall we say, and that left more scars on my heart, stripped more faith and trust from my soul.
Nothing unusual, really. But I suppose we all internalize and integrate things differently and between all of that and being sexually abused as a child by someone I was meant to love and trust, my doubts about anyone loving me until death do us part (and please god, let me depart before he does) are rather exaggerated.
As much as I love and trust this man I am married to, as much as I think he loves me, there is a part of me that has expected for over 38 years that one day he will come to me and say, "Well, that's it. I'm in love with...well, someone else."
Anyway, la-di-dah and I had to take a tiny Ativan this morning which did calm me some and I texted back and forth with a friend and that helped a lot because she knows. She knows. Oh, my god, does she know. But mostly I just did crossword puzzles and hung on. I couldn't even make our Sunday breakfast. Mr. Moon offered to take me out but quickly realized that that was not going to happen.
But I did make up a loaf of sourdough which will go into the oven soon. And took a picture of the spirea and also, one of my native buckeye which is putting forth its leaves and blooms.
"Hey buddy," he says. "Do you want to come in?"
"NO FUCKING WAY!" I say. Can you imagine what Maurice would do to us if we allowed another cat into the family? She would slice our throats as we slept with her scimitar claws and then she would rip out our guts with her saber-toothed cat fangs.
Or the other way around.
Or at least unscathed by either nightmare or ginger cat.